


(I Will Try To) Fix You

by sadlynotlindamccartney



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Bulimia, Cancer, Deacury friendship, Doctors, Friends to Lovers, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Joger friendship, Leukemia, Life-Threatening Diseases, M/M, Major Illness, Male!Breast Cancer, Maylor Friendship, Mentions of Cancer, Mentions of Death, Sensitive themes, Slow Burn, froger - Freeform, mentions of bulimia, patients
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-01-05 21:31:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21215384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadlynotlindamccartney/pseuds/sadlynotlindamccartney
Summary: "I believe that believing we will survive is what makes us survive."-Izzie Stevens, Grey's AnatomyRoger is 21.He suffers from breast cancer.Which is rare in men.Very rare.Seeing his roommate John makes him aware of the fact that he might die.He doesn't want to die.Neither does Freddie.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a new project that took up my entire heart. I hope you all like it, darlings! xx  
Feedback is highly appreciated.

BRCA-1.

He had laughed and thought it was a bad joke.

Like, a _really_ bad one.

Not even one out of hundred breast cancer sufferers was male.

„Mr. Taylor, your values are highly alarming. The estrogen is exploding. You better come here soon, it's urgent“, a nurse said. She sounded young and tired, probably not much older than himself.

He did feel like a joke.

Being rushed into the emergency room by an ambulance.

Oxygen flooding through his lungs, heart hammering against his ribcage as if it was about to break free.

Ironically, he was so hyper aware of being _alive._

„Hello, Mr. Taylor, I'm Dr. May and I'll be taking care of you.“ The soft voice belonged to a man in his late twenties, tall and curly-haired.

He looked the most responsible and trustworthy Roger's ever seen in a doctor.

Then again, he hadn't met many doctors yet.

He nodded and tried a smile, knowing he'd fail miserably, simply because he didn't want to be here. „Roger- Call me Roger“, he croaked.

„Brian“, the doctor responded.

_Brian._ Roger liked the sound of that. Something to focus on.

_Brian. Brian. Brian._

_Brian has big hands with slender fingers._

_Brian's wearing a stethoscope around his neck._

_He's beautiful._

„Breathe, Roger. In, aaaand – out“, he advised. „Calm down. You're okay. You're still alive. I've got you. I'll inject some tranquilizer to your aditus.“

Brian carefully held his marble hand to observe the needle that was already in there.

His big hands were warm and soft, feeling like those of a father.

He's got me, he thought with a dizzy mind, before it all went black.

***

„Ha! Told you I'd win“, Freddie cheered, showing his three queens to a devastated John, who, with all his remaining strength, pouted and let his deck down in his lap.

„Always right“, John smiled tiredly.

„Wanna sleep, sweetheart?“, the elder boy asked. „I'll leave you alone then.“

John shook his head. „No, stay. Let's cuddle.“

His counterpart grinned and rested his head against the younger's chest. John began to stroke Freddie's long, black hair.

„I heard something about a new boy coming in tonight. Breast cancer.“, the brunette started.

Freddie chuckled and pulled him closer. „Breast cancer? Likely a diva.“

„Says you“, John whispered. „Maybe he's nice. Befriend him, you'll have someone when I'm gone.“

„You won't die, Deaky. I'll do anything against it“, Fred protested, earning another heart-warming smile.

„Then find me some bone-marrow transplant.“

„You know I'd give you all of mine if I could“, he sighed and closed his eyes.

***

By the time Roger woke up again, he was in a sharply lit, green room with another two beds.

One of them was empty, the other contained two boys his age, cuddling.

Both of them looked extremely sick.

A brunette, very slim, bags under his eyes, skin so pale his veins looked like rivers loosely sketched on a map.

He had a pointy nose, which was the home to a giant stream of blood towards his lips.

His fingernails looked white and his hair didn't seem to fit his head.

It was a _wig. _

Realization hit him like a wave.

_God, this boy had cancer, leukemia. He was bald. He was sick. He was dying._

Roger tried to breathe, choking on the thought of having to shave his hair off _too,_ looking like that _too, _the prospect of dying-

Thoughts spiraling downwards, his chest tightening, and he felt the lump-

He coughed loudly, causing the pair to wake up.

„I'm sorry, didn't mean to interrupt you“, he said, looking to the sheets in his bed, embarrassed.

He felt two pairs of eyes on him, and admittedly, Leukemia Boy had the most breathtaking eyes Roger ever spotted.

„It's okay honey. I'm Freddie, this is John“, the smaller, black-haired man spoke. His voice was cheeky, but the first thing that caught Rog's interest was just how obviously boney he looked.

_His cheekbones were jumping out of his face. _

_His ribcage pressed against his shirt, and his shoulder blades, even his spine._

_He had upper arms half the size of Rog's calf._

_His fingers looked like spider legs and his nails painted in black didn't help at all._

_God._

„I'm Roger- Nice, nice to meet you.“

„Never a second chance to leave a first impression, huh?“, Freddie chuckled. „Look at us, leukemia and bulimia. I know we're quite a catch, don't be shy about it.“

_Hell. Where on earth was he at?_


	2. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone still reads this, please let me now, sweethearts.

Roger stared at the painting on the opposite wall. It looked like a Dali. A faked one, though. 

John, cancer boy as he learned, was currently getting examined. He was staring at the ceiling with his eyes empty, never blinking, while Brian carefully palpated his chest.   
John was asleep most of the time, and while he was awake, he was very quiet. To Roge, he seemed to be afraid of scaring his roommates with just how sick he was – trouble breathing, immense nosebleeds and bone pain being his omnipresent companions. 

Freddie, however, the skinny one, was god knows where. He had psychotherapy scheduled every day, eating classes and a weighing routine – every morning, noon and evening. He was an overall lovely, chatty and gentle person.   
Freddie usually sketched or doodled at night. He was talented. Most of his pictures were of John – resting, reading, playing cards. 

He looked at the other boy in a way Roger had never seen people look at each other. 

Fuck, he should be careful enough not to start to like them both.

One of them could die anytime. 

Or, even worse, he could.

Shaking off the thought, Roger received his daily dose of painkillers. He complimented Brian on his hair he wore in a bun today and winked at him.

God, he missed flirting. Going out, partying, studying- just being normal.

„Do you happen to know where your boyfriend went?“, he asked John. The younger one had used all of his remaining strength to sit up in bed and have a fork of mashed banana.

„He's not.“

„Huh?“

„Freddie and I- We're-“, he shook his bald head. „We're not together.“

Roger chuckled. „What a pity. You're kind cute, and so is he.“ 

John just sighed and rolled his eyes. „Thought you'd flirt with Brian.“

„He looks like a snack in a man bun, doesn't he?“, the blond grinned and batted his eyelashes. Might as well use them as long as they remain.

John shook his head - „Oh Roger, you're helpless. And I'm tired.“

„S' okay. Don't want you to be bothered by me. Oh, just one thing: Why don't you tell him?“

„Tell whom what?“, asked John, looking uncertain.

„Freddie, that you love him.“

His eyes widened. Roger couldn't tell whether it was because of the pain, his tiredness, or if he was actually right. „It's not that easy – look at me. I'm probably dead within the next four weeks.“

Roger shook his head energetically. It wasn't a good choice, he felt like fainting, and his heart in his chest hammered. „So? If you love each other who cares?“

„Look, I don't wanna be a burden. Okay, I do love Freddie with all my heart, but I don't want him to get too close and involved. Same goes - for you. I-I don't want anyone near because I will die and it'll leave him heartbroken. Freddie's a very sensitive person. He'll go insane.“

Listening to John, Roger thought about his words. He was deeply moved and impressed. The youngest was such a selfless person. Trying to conquer his feelings every damn day, when the man he loved was right next to him. 

He couldn't do this. Not ever.

„Can I sleep now or do you wanna continue talking about how in love I am?“ 

Rog nodded and shook his head. „Go rest, Deaky.“

***

John was fast asleep within minutes. His soft snoring was a welcomed distraction from his stream of thoughts. 

A few of his lymph nodes were swollen, stretching his skin uncomfortably. His nipple was itching and oozing liquid.

He was so fucking disgusted with himself.

He just wanted it to end. His hair was coming out, coming off in tufts. He used to love his blonde hair, now he hated it. What was left sagged down his head and neck in sparse, ugly strands.

He got up, positioning himself in front of the bathroom mirror.   
„I look like a scarecrow!“ he shouted at himself, before breaking out in tears. 

„Roger?“ a teeny, tiny voice asked. It was his roommate, standing on the doorstep of the bathroom, wearing a kimono loosely tied around his super slim waist. 

„Freddie? I-I thought you were having therapy“, he sobbed, determinedly not looking him in the eye.

„I-I messed up. Made myself vomit last night when you were asleep, lost three pounds again. But - oh dear, what's it? Why are you crying?“, Freddie asked. He closed the door in a swift movement and took a step towards Roger.

„I'm ugly...“, he sniffled. „I don't want to die.“

„You're not. That's a stupid thought.“

„Freddie, no one will ever have me looking like this!“, Roger whined. He was helpless, god, and he wanted Freddie to fuck off and leave him be.

„You've got us. The rest is irrelevant“, Freddie responded while crossing his arms in front of his torso.

The smaller man laughed bitterly. „What an outtake of this.“ His eyes returned to the mirror, to Freddie, and then he looked at his feet. 

„Do you want a hug?“, came his counterpart's voice. Rog nodded instantly. „But be careful not to break me with those drummer arms of yours, sweetheart.“ 

He gave him a small smile and was embraced in Freddie's arms. He was indeed small and weak, but it was exactly what he needed.

Resting his head on Freddie's shoulder (if you could call it that), he started tearing up again.

Look at yourself, such a pussy.

„Sh, it'll be okay. I'm here, so is John, and Brian. We'll manage. You're not alone.“ 

And somehow that gave him peace.

Roger was in deep shit. He didn't want to let go.   
He really didn't.


End file.
